


The Catalyst

by Emmeebee



Series: QLFC Season 5 [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Gen, The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 08:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11596425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmeebee/pseuds/Emmeebee
Summary: By the time the Greengrass sisters reach Hogwarts, their family has a reputation for being cold and standoffish. But this was not always the case.





	The Catalyst

**Author's Note:**

> Written for QLFC Round 4 by Chaser 1 for Montrose Magpies.  
> Prompt: the Greengrass family  
> Thank you so much to my teammates for betaing this.  
> Optional prompts: (word) rare; (object) fiddle; (object) pot  
> Word count: 1972
> 
> My headcanon is that young witches and wizards have the option of going to day schools until they're old enough to go to Hogwarts, hence the reference to school in the catalyst section of the story.

_17 August 1994 (after)_

The dining room was quiet but for the sound of cutlery clinking against fine china. Even the ticking of the grandfather clock — normally a staple of their family dinners — was absent; the old thing had broken down the week prior and hadn't yet been replaced. Daphne could feel her sister's gaze on her, but since Astoria didn't say anything, she didn't, either. She had long since learned that it wasn't worth upsetting their parents when they were in one of their moods. If Tori wanted a conversation, she could be the one to take the risk.

As she slipped a piece of salmon into her mouth and bit into the soft meat, her eyes fell on the decorative pot that was on display in the middle of the table. It was, quite simply, the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Neon orange and pale green fought to see who could be the biggest eyesore, and it was covered with lines that were more scribble than art. Despite that, nobody ever commented on it, just like how nobody ever talked about how very wrong things had become within the family. Nevertheless, it was the last thing _he_ had mentioned liking, so it was there to stay.

Once again, just like their newfound dynamics of silence and coldness.

"Could you pass me the pepper, please, Father?" Astoria said, gesturing to the desired seasoning.

Daphne almost rolled her eyes as her father did so without a word. Astoria didn't even like pepper — not that their parents remembered that.

"Thank you," Tori said as she sprinkled it over her food. Her tone was polite and unaffected, but her frustration was evident in the way she shook the shaker with uncharacteristic jerkiness.

"Do you like the tomatoes?" Daphne asked, feeling sorry for her. Daphne liked the quiet, so the formal dinners usually didn't bother her as much as they did her sister. "The cook said they were only picked this morning."

Astoria shot her a grateful look. "You can tell. They're delicious."

"We should go down to the gardens ourselves sometime," Daphne suggested. "We could pick the berries like we used to when we were little."

"I would love that. Then, we could —"

"I've been thinking about having the vines removed," their mother cut in, speaking for the first time since that morning. "They're a waste of time and energy that might be put to better use elsewhere."

"Not at all," Astoria protested. "We —"

"Don't argue with me, child." Her voice wasn't unkind, but it held a note of finality that both sisters knew not to argue with. "I can already feel the headache coming on."

Astoria couldn't hide the pain that twisted across her face like a spasm at the dismissal. "I'm sorry, Mother."

Daphne stared down at her plate and moved some of the pumpkin around with her fork. She wanted to help her sister, but there was nothing she could do. As Tracey often said: At some point, it was necessary to put on one's own oxygen mask first.

After all, that was what their parents had done.

-x-

_9 July 1989 (before)_

It was one of those rare days when the clouds opened up to reveal the vivid sky in its full majesty. The expanse of clear blue was interrupted only by the golden radiance of the sun. The park was filled with the sound of laughter and shrieks of joy as people bustled about, enjoying their Saturday morning. For Daphne, Astoria and Francis, however, it was an altogether different experience. Hidden in a remote little alcove of chestnut trees where the smell of wildflowers and grass was thickest, it was almost as if they were alone in the sprawling park.

The bright green leaves hung so close to the ground that they'd had to crawl to get underneath. Daphne's dress had grass stains around the hems from the exercise, but she hardly cared. She knew her parents; they would make noises about how it was improper for a young lady to behave in such a way, but as soon as she and Astoria told them how much fun they'd had, they would melt. They never could deny their children anything.

Kneeling down on the grass — there was no point in being careful with the dress now — Daphne lowered a wooden stick to touch Astoria's shoulders in turn. "With this sword, I dub thee a Knight of the Glades, sworn to protect this area and all that live in it." After a suitably charged moment of silence, she added, "You may rise."

Astoria pushed herself up off her knees. She had cut her mottled green shawl so she could drape it around her neck like a cape. Although Daphne had protested at first, she had to admit that she was proud of her sister's handiwork. She looked every bit the part of a gallant knight.

"What about me?" Francis cut in, his brown eyes alight with excitement as he looked between them.

"You're not old enough to be a knight," Astoria said, ignoring the fact that, technically speaking, neither she nor Daphne were, either. "You have to be at least seven."

"Astoria's right. You're too young to be a knight; it's a big responsibility." Daphne frowned as the boy's face fell. It didn't make sense to let him be a knight; if anyone could be one, then the title had no meaning. At the same time, however, she didn't want him to feel left out. There had to be another way. Her mum had told her that finding that hidden alternative was the key to good leadership.

_But how —?_

Her face eased into a slow smile as she found a compromise. "But you _can_ be a squire," she continued. "It's a lot more fun, and it means that you'll be able to become a knight _a whole year early._ "

He hesitated, his eyebrows drawing together in thought. Daphne wasn't surprised. A year early was still a year of waiting, after all. Nevertheless, after a few moments, he grinned, and his face lit up with so much joy that it was contagious. "Do I get a name?"

"Of course," Astoria chimed in, leaning forward to ruffle his hair affectionately. "You'll be the Squire of the Sun."

"Can I?" he asked, looking over at Daphne expectantly. As the oldest and, in her opinion, wisest, she was the unofficial leader of their little troop.

Daphne tilted her head. Usually, she found Astoria's suggestions too fanciful, but this one suited him. With golden hair like Daphne and an infectious smile like Astoria, he really was sunshine incarnate. "I like it. It suits you."

He knelt, and she performed the ceremony once more. By the time he rose to his feet, all three were grinning, all thoughts of sombre propriety abandoned like a ball stuck in the branches of a Whomping Willow.

"Let's go protect the world," said Daphne, the Knight of the Winds. She charged off out of the thicket.

And her siblings ran after her.

-x-

_Most of the time, change occurs so slowly that it is difficult to pinpoint when it starts and when it ends. Sometimes, however, it happens with a blink-and-you'll-miss-it flash that blinds everybody within eyesight and leaves them all permanently altered. For the Greengrasses, it was the latter._

_Whenever Daphne looked back on the moment that it all changed, the first thing that she remembered was that her uncle had been playing the fiddle. The second was that it had been her eleventh birthday._

-x-

_1 January 1991 (the catalyst)_

The song was jolly and fast, reminding Daphne of feet pattering across the ground as they danced. Her Uncle Aiden's eyes were closed as his stick darted back and forth across the strings of the fiddle. He looked so peaceful and content, as if everything in the world started and ended with that instrument. Before he had started playing, he had called the tune an old Irish jig he knew from his days in Belfast as a boy.

She called it perfect.

Her right foot tapped along to the rhythm like a woodpecker as her eyes remained fixated on her uncle. As the music washed over her, all she wanted to do was to stay in that moment forever — like a snowglobe, ready to be shaken and re-lived over and over and over.

Her only wish was that her siblings could have been there with her. Her parents had let her skip school for her birthday, but Astoria had to hand in a drawing project, and they had decided that if she couldn't stay home, then it wasn't fair for Francis to, either. While it would have been _better_ with them there, however, she was still having a wonderful time. Her dad had taken a few hours off work to be with her, and they had spent the morning playing games in the garden and building the most elaborate pillow fort she had ever seen. By the time her uncle arrived to look after her while her father returned to work, she had been tired and more than ready to sit down and listen to his music.

At first, when the door opened behind her, she didn't react. As her uncle started to play the final few notes of the song, however, he opened his eyes and faltered. The music cut off abruptly. "What's wrong, Maeve?"

Surprised to hear her mother's name — her parents weren't due back from picking Astoria and Francis up from day school yet — Daphne turned to glance over her shoulder and immediately wished she hadn't. Alone and tear-stricken, the only word that could adequately describe how her mother looked was _shattered_. "Mum?"

"There was an accident," she replied, not even looking in Daphne's direction. "Francis… Oh, Aiden; _Francis_..."

Daphne didn't understand. They had accidents all the time, but none of them had ever made her mother act like this before. She turned back to her uncle, hoping to get some kind of explanation from him, but he just looked pale as he stepped forward to hug her mother.

"What happened?" she asked, a sense of dread starting to build in the pit of her stomach.

"Daphne, go to your room."

"But —"

" _Now_."

Daphne had never heard her mother use that tone of voice before. It was cold and clipped, leaving no room for affection or debate. "I'm scared." When nobody replied, Daphne repeated, "What happened? Where's Francis? Where are Daddy and Tori?"

"Daphne," her uncle said, "I think it would be best if you went to your room for now. I'll come up to talk to you later."

Standing without another word, Daphne left the living room, closing the door securely behind her. One of the windows was slightly ajar, and it was tempting to sneak outside and eavesdrop like Francis often did. Something about the idea felt wrong, however, in a way that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Instead, she went to her bedroom and lay down, staring up at the swirling lines above her bed with unfocused eyes.

An hour later, when her uncle finally came upstairs, he explained through eyes that were red from crying that there had been an accident and that Francis hadn't made it. When she asked to talk to her mother, he said that she had asked not to be disturbed until Daphne's father came home.

It was the first time Daphne's mother had ever shut her out. It wouldn't be the last.

Even then, Daphne knew that things were about to change. There was already a distinct _before_ and _after_ forming in her mind. _Before_ was a time of unity and happiness and love. _After_ …

Well, she had a bad feeling about _after_.


End file.
